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He twists around to see, and his smug smile returns. "I was right. We did it."
"Get out the journal. We should study it."
"Will do." He pulls both our packs out from behind his body, setting them between us. "Could use a snack and some water too."
"Yes, definitely."
He digs the journal out and offers it to me.
I shake my head. "You should read it."
"Why? You're the smart one."
"Honestly, we're both smart."
"Tell you what." He flips the cover open. "I'll read the first twenty pages, then you can read the next twenty, and so on. Sound good?"
"Yes. Very equitable."
He leans over to lay a hand on my thigh, then slide it up toward my hip. "I love it when you say big words. Makes me want to fuck you again right now."
"Later, Gabriel. We have work to do."
"If you insist."
While he begins reading the journal, I get out some snacks and water bottles, enough for both of us. I offer him food, but he waves it away. I watch him as I eat a snack bar, chewing slowly because I'm fascinated by the look of intense concentration on his face. My friends back in Sanctuary had told me a bit about what the journal contains, but I want to know the details. It might prove vital to figuring out how the Echo's Brain works.
Did Sefton imbue the Brain with his own thought patterns? That would be beyond creepy, but it might also provide insight, if it's true.
Finally, Gabriel raises his head and rolls his head side to side as if ironing out kinks. "This book is boring and full of whackjob nonsense."
"Let me have a go at it."
He hands me the open journal. "Be prepared to go cross-eyed."
"I can handle it." I toss him a snack bar. "Recharge your brain."
While he rips open the foil package, I flip to the next page of the journal to start where he left off. After reading three pages of dense text about quantum physics, and not understanding one sentence of it, I give my eyes a brief rest by shutting them. The light inside the room filters through my lids, creating phantoms of writhing darkness and light. I take slow, deep breaths in the hopes I can achieve a Zen state the way Grant can. He's had years of experience. I've had a few meditation sessions with Grant and Erin. So no, I doubt I can achieve true Zen-ness herein a spooky, empty castle while a hot guy sits across from me, watching and munching on a granola bar.
I can hear him chewing. And breathing.
Let the rest of the world recede from your consciousness, Grant always tells me,and relax into the silence and mindfulness. I reel my thoughts backward to the last time I had a mindfulness session with Grant, when I was trying to regain my memories. It didn't work. But I learned how to block out all the noise and focus on my body. I start at my head, feeling my scalp and my hair without touching them or moving even one muscle. Mindfulness is about perception, not physical touch. So I feel my way down my face as I experience my eyelids, my facial muscles, my lips, and my chin.
"What are you doing?" Gabriel asks. "You aren't reading the journal."
"Shush. I'm trying mindfulness meditation to get a clearer perception of the journal."
"But—"
"I said shush, Gabriel. That means be quiet."
He goes back to chewing, and I retreat into my mindfulness again. I work my way down my body, perceiving muscles and skin and hair without touching anything, just sinking into the feeling. When I reach my lap, I experience the sensation of the journal lying on my thigh and my hands resting on the smooth pages. I swear I can smell the paper too, and even the ink Sefton Stainthorpe used to write his nonsensical text.
A strange sensation trickles through me, lifting every fine hair on my body and shortening my breaths. I found something. I can't see it, but I feel it. The journal contains important information hidden beneath the surface of the text itself.
I open my eyes.
Gabriel is staring at me. He narrows his gaze. "You look like you just discovered some vital clue, but all you've been doing was falling asleep while sitting up."
